Tales Of Nevaeh: The Trilogy and Backstory of the Epic Sci-Fi Fantasy Series Tales Of Nevaeh: (The 4 Book Bundled Box Set)

by David Wind

  She pressed her hands to her belly and bit down on her lip to stop from crying out. Closing her eyes, she fought hard to gain control. On the back of her eyelids was a set of eyes, yellow eyes…behind those were four more sets of eyes.

  A blaze erupted in her mind. She gasped, her mind swarming with the knowledge of who she was, and knew as well that they were in a trap of the Dark Master’s making.

  Looking at Mikaal, she sent him a stream of thoughts. His eyes widened and his body stiffened. He shook his head, clearing his senses. Yes.

  The bedchamber was breaking apart around them, the walls crumbling into a million pieces, exploding outward into a gray-black void of emptiness. Beneath their feet, the floor vanished and a gray mist swept over them. She flicked her eyes toward him in plea as an unseen force pulled Mikaal away from her.

  Blue-white light enveloped her hands. Instinctively, without any thought, she leapt across the space separating them, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her legs went around his waist, her ankles locking securely while a blanket of the blue-white light spread over them, cocooning them as they spun into the darkness.

  When everything went dark, Areenna turned the blue-white light into a shield to stop the Dark Masters from manipulating their minds. Still, they fought her, attacking her mind, and Mikaal’s. Before they could gain a hold, Mikaal raised a shield, his anger so strong the shield snapped around them like the slamming of a door.

  A heartbeat later, the gray mist turned reddish. The bedchamber of moments before was gone, replaced by the remnants of broken and shattered buildings. The shiny needle of what used to be, sitting atop the rubble, told her they were on the Island. Only then did she become conscious of people staring at their backs.

  Areenna loosened her grip on Mikaal and slid to her feet. Thank you, Neleh, she communicated silently.

  Mikaal’s hands went to her shoulders. “You’re all right?”

  “I am,” she declared.

  “Enough. Man, we need to speak.”

  Still feeling the effects of the manipulation by the Dark Masters, Mikaal stiffened. Lowering his hands, he turned to The Speaker.

  Easy, remember anger leaves you open, Areenna whispered in his mind. Mikaal drew her within, completing them and making them of one mind as they had learned to do on the mountain.

  He drew himself tall and stared into The Speaker’s eyes. With a shrug of his shoulders, his hands exploded into flames. He raised one flaming hand toward her. “When you give me the respect due me, we can speak. I have a name and it is not Man.”

  Glaring at him, her eyes sparking with unmistakable power, The Speaker rose, her snuck-like lower body expanded until she towered ten feet above Mikaal. She bent from the waist until her face was but an inch from his. “You want respect? Do not push me, Man… I could strike you down before your next heartbeat.”

  “Then do so! I am not your slave. I did not bend to them, and I will not bend to you. Either strike me down, if such is your need, or give me the respect due. But neither I nor Areenna will play puppet to your strings.”

  “You believe you can stand against us? You believe you are our equal?” The Speaker’s words dripped with scorn. She drew back even as the other seven sorceresses rose to surround The Speaker. Their combined power erupted and everything around them rumbled. Pieces of stone and metal fell from the shambles of what was once Manhattan. Yet, Mikaal and Areenna stood their ground.

  “I believe we are but people,” Areenna offered. “We are people who have been tasked to help those around us, to protect them, but we—” she looked at Mikaal, who locked his gaze on her, their minds perfectly in sync. “—we will be your pawns no longer. Kill us if such does not suit your plans, or accept us as your allies, but we are not toys with which you play your games. You have seen to it that we are no longer children. Whatever innocence might have remained, you have stolen. We are not here to serve at your pleasure. We are here to serve our people.”

  With that, Areenna’s power flared so strongly it pushed the eight sorceresses back before they realized what happened. Silence fell over the scene, so thick was it that each breath echoed like an explosion.

  Then Master Jalil stepped between them. He held the Staff in his left hand, his right hand raised, and his palm faced first The Eight and then the two across from them.

  “The time for argument is past. Trust must not be broken.” Jalil turned to The Speaker. “Respect is due and must be paid,” he told the eight sorceresses. Then he turned to Mikaal and Areenna. “Trust and acceptance must be given before the next step can be taken.”

  “We accomplish that…how?” Mikaal asked.

  “By accepting what you know to be the truth. Without The Eight of the Island, you stand no chance of defeating the Dark Masters and the forces they bring. You accomplish this by trusting these sorceresses, these guardians of Nevaeh, have but one ultimate goal, to protect Nevaeh and to stop them.”

  Areenna opened herself to the Master’s words, and at the same time sent a probe to the sorceresses, which she expected to be blocked. Rather than blocked, she was pulled inside. Astonishingly, she found but a single open, clear, and welcoming mind. Yet, there was a wavering darkness at the far edges of their minds.

  Areenna, still holding Mikaal’s hand, took a single step forward, their minds still synced together. While Areenna projected the words, Mikaal created them. You hide something. How can we trust you when you close off from us?

  We hold back, we do not hide. We keep to ourselves what we must for your protection—

  —fear. Your fear is that we fail, Mikaal cut in from within their melded minds.

  No, The Speaker replied, the fear is that we will fail. We will be unable to protect Nevaeh, and fulfill our obligation.

  Obligation? To whom do you have this obligation? Areenna snapped.

  The Speaker drew in a deep breath. Her eyes locked on Areenna. You… and you, she added, lifting one arm and pointing a long-nailed, black finger at Mikaal. “We have waited long, planned throughout the generations. We have held true to our visions in order to reach this point in our existence… in Nevaeh’s existence.”

  “So we must take your word and accept it as truth and give you unconditional trust? Trust you, as a mother unconditionally loves her child or a newborn loves and trusts her mother?”

  Is there another way to trust? Master Jalil asked, looking from one group to the other. Without this trust, they become victorious. “And trust,” he added aloud, “goes in two directions, not one.” He skewered The Speaker with a hard gaze, the tip of the Staff of Afzal pointing directly at her. “To gain their trust, you must give them yours. You have brought our world to this point. You have guided and helped create that which can end the darkness. There are but a few steps yet to be taken; except, you want to maintain control over that which you know can be controlled no longer.”

  “And you,” Jalil continued, turning to Mikaal. “You must do the same before we can take the next step.”

  There is no choice, Areenna told Mikaal. We cannot stop now.

  I understand, but we cannot follow blindly any longer. We need to know what we are facing and upon whom we can depend.

  On us! The haunting cry from The Speaker broke into their minds with such power it staggered Areenna. Mikaal braced himself, his anger barely contained before the flames covering his hands could leap at the sorceress.

  Mikaal closed his eyes and worked at calming himself while Areenna projected a warming energy to him. When he opened his eyes, he exhaled softly and thought about what they had found within the minds of The Eight. The openness was almost complete, except at the far edges of their minds, where they barricaded their fear. It took a moment for him to realize why. Three thousand years of fearing that men might seek to gain control kept their fear not just hidden, but alive and nourished.

  Yes, Areenna agreed.

  Mikaal put out the flames. He took a step closer to The Speaker. “Are you willing to let us in, to see the fear?�
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  The Speaker stared at Mikaal, her eyes unreadable. “If that will allow you to trust us, then there is no choice. Come, the block has been dropped.”

  Areenna squeezed Mikaal’s hand.

  Mikaal led the way, entering The Speaker’s mind, and traveling along the vast labyrinth of channels until he reached the point where he’d encountered the block. It was gone. He sensed a great stirring of their emotions, a twisting dread of invasion within their combined mind, but they kept the block lowered.

  Mikaal withdrew. “That is what trust is. I have no need to delve into your fears, only to know you trust us enough to allow such.”

  “Once again, you surprise us,” The Speaker marveled.

  Jalil nodded. Because you fear what he represents from the past! “You know, as do I, how our world has changed. You know, as do I, that where now all of Nevaeh is one, there once lived many races made of red, white, yellow and black skinned people,” Master Jalil remembered. “But gone are those races, as is the past. Nevaeh’s future is our only concern. They come, the Dark Masters, and if we do not prepare, all will die or be enslaved. Time is running out and your hatred,” he said, raising the Staff high above his head, “is mired in the past. Leaving it there is the only way to inscribe the future.”

  After a moment of silence, The Speaker said, “Agreed.”

  Master Jalil walked to the center of the small clearing. He planted the tip of the Staff of Afzal on the ground, and motioned for all to circle and grasp the Staff. Ten hands reached in and closed about the ancient wood.

  “What next comes is dangerous, for it will bring a change to everyone present. What next comes will help determine whether we succeed or fail.”

  Areenna caught Mikaal’s hand and clutched it tightly. Then she opened her mind and drew him in, wrapped her essence around him like a blanket, drawing his immense strength into herself as the Staff began to hum and their hands vibrated in tune with the wood.

  From a distance, she heard strange words she could not comprehend. An instant later, and through her closed eyes, a white flash filled her vision.

  Mikaal!

  CHAPTER 4

  LIKE AN EMBRACE, he held her essence securely within his mind. It is the Staff.

  Yes… but different this time. She opened her eyes. Everyone was standing within a cone of white, so pure she saw their images on it. The Eight held the Staff, as did Mikaal and she. Master Jalil alone did not touch it.

  It is time, Jalil declared. Areenna, Mikaal, withdraw not your hands from the Staff. He paused and then spoke aloud in a language Areenna did not understand. He talked for several minutes, his hands moving in intricate patterns while he walked behind each of the sorceresses, briefly stopping to rest his left hand atop of each head until he reached The Speaker. Each time he lifted his hand from a sorceresses, she removed her hand from the Staff and stepped back.

  When he stood behind The Speaker, he placed a hand on each side of her head and chanted. When he stopped, a red haze flowed outward from the Staff’s handle and dipped down to cover The Speaker’s head. At the same time, Master Jalil’s voice rose high and there was another flash. The red haze ran from The Speaker’s head, to her shoulders and then down her arms until both hands glowed red. The red haze lifted from her hands, came together, and retreated into the handle of the Staff, where it disappeared.

  “Hold,” Jalil commanded Areenna and Mikaal when The Speaker drew her hands from the Staff, leaving just their hands to hold the ancient wood. Master Jalil stepped behind the two and, bending slightly, put a hand on each head.

  Together are you now, as one, and as one you must join with and in the Staff of Afzal. The joining will be simple. Once you enter, the Staff will attempt to reject you. Fight it not. Open your mind completely. Put up no blocks! Find a way to stay within. It is the only means to become one with the Staff. The only tactic to enable you to defeat the Dark Masters.

  Now!

  Unlike the time in the cavern of the twin-peaked mountain, where the white mist covered them and brought them together, this red mist took them from where they were and pulled them into a black space.

  Mikaal’s presence was part of her own. Their thoughts shared openly. Forward, Mikaal advised.

  Areenna pushed her senses outward. Jalil said it would reject us. I sense nothing at all.

  Rejection can be refusing entry.

  Blind in the absolute absence of light, Mikaal entwined his senses with hers and took the lead. He was slow and careful, testing as he pushed. After a few seconds, he reached a block. Doorway?

  Yes, Areenna agreed.

  How?

  Areenna followed Mikaal’s thought to the doorway and there, explored the block. She envisioned her arm reaching forward, her hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. She turned it.

  Pain ripped through her palm. She screamed but there was no sound. The pain was akin to having grasped a white-hot coal. Mikaal gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out from the pain.

  She withdrew her thought image instantly.

  That, she told Mikaal, is rejection.

  And pain, he added.

  There must be a way, she stated.

  Mikaal remembered a saying of his father’s. ‘No matter what the situation, how hopeless it appears, there is always a way, always!’

  We just need to find that way, Areenna replied. What did Master Jalil say? Our minds must be open, completely, no part blocked?

  We have never done so before. Our— Mikaal cut off his thought.

  We have never spoken of our deepest feelings. It may change us, she warned, dreading what this meant—allowing him to see her most private, most intimate thoughts. Then the truth lit her mind like a torch. It was, again, about one thing and one thing only. Trust.

  Yes, I see it; I see your truth. It will not change who we are. Did not the Dark Masters try in the wormhole? Did we not know then, our feelings for each other?

  It is time, Areenna concurred. She gasped when Mikaal dropped the block he’d held to hide his deeper emotions. The rush of his feelings overwhelmed her. She held still under the onslaught, letting the sensations ease until, finally, his strength spread through her once again.

  When her breathing settled, she found a difference within her, a feeling of being more than she had been moments before. Of being a part of—

  —me, came Mikaal’s soft thought.

  She steadied herself even as she drew his emotions in and then, slowly and carefully, released the block she had struggled so desperately to maintain.

  He staggered within her mind, fighting with himself until he reached the acceptance he needed. When he finally held control, he responded with a wash of emotions that brought tears to her eyes.

  Now we know in reality what we both knew by intuition, Areenna summarized. We are one. Open the door, Mikaal.

  Without hesitation, Mikaal reached out a mental hand and opened the door. There was no burning heat to repel his hand, only the cool feel of the knob.

  The door opened and a white mist flowed from it, long, streaking, white tentacles wrapped around them, securing them tighter than any hand could, yet there was a delicate warmth as well. Ever so gently, the mist drew them in. Once through the doorway, the mist cleared and their sight returned. They were in a round room surrounded by a circular pale tan wall with darker wavy streaks woven upon it. Vibrations rumbled through their bodies.

  Areenna looked everywhere. Do you feel it?

  It comes from everywhere. Where are we?

  Reaching out, she touched a wall, trailing her mental fingers over it until she understood. Within the Staff.

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  Enaid stood at the stern, ignoring the freezing winds buffeting her as she controlled the waters pushing the large ship along. They were well past the Frozen Mountains and making good time as the two queens, Ilsraeth and Atir, added to her strength. For the first time in the two weeks since arriving at the far reaches of the land, the sun had risen over Nevaeh to bathe the ocean
with sunlight.

  In the five days since they’d left the Village of The People, Enaid had barely slept and had eaten sparingly. The importance of time weighed heavily upon her, as she was the only one who could speed the ship to Nevaeh.

  She was tired, even with the added strength of the two powerful queens and Sirod standing with her, but she held steadfastly to her mission. Her son and the young woman she considered a daughter, were facing something unknown, and she needed to get to them. Her psychic and maternal senses spoke of a great danger, and she needed to warn them. She tried to sense them, but found every way blocked. All she could do was hope.

  She looked at the small pen holding Charka and Hero, the place where Neleh had been sleeping for the past day, nestled into the large kraal’s side and Gaalrie lying on her other side. Enaid had never before witnessed such a scene, and was amazed at the way the two aoutems had reacted to the young sorceress. If she had ever held doubt as to the child’s part in all of their lives, there was none any longer. Neleh’s bloodline and Areenna’s were the same. In some ways even closer than her bloodline was to Areenna.

  As she watched, Neleh awoke, stretched, and stood. Charka, clumsily because of his size, did the same, while Gaalrie, with a loud cry, flexed her wings and rose from the deck. I will help you, came Neleh’s silent thought.

  You can do so?

  I can, Neleh replied.

  We will see. You must eat first, Enaid advised.

  Neleh did not respond, instead, she left the pen, went below deck and, ten minutes later, returned to stand next to Enaid.

  “Show me what you do, Grandmother.”

  “Grandmother, am I?” Enaid questioned with narrowed eyes. I am barely older than your mother.

  Neleh tilted her head; her pale, yellow, shaded eyes took on a glow. You are my father guardian’s mother. You are now my grandmother, is that not true?

  Enaid started to reply, but stopped to study the child who she knew was much more than a child. “Yes, Neleh, that is true. Call me Enaid.”

  Next to her, Atir and Ilsraeth chuckled. Turning, Enaid fixed them with a glare. Sirod, wisely, stared straight ahead.